The sun shines bright through the windows, as most of Class 1-A is settiling in homeroom.
Itami sat slouched slightly at his desk, arms crossed, his gaze fixed somewhere on the board but not really looking. His body still ached, sore to the bone. The kind of soreness that didn't come from running laps or dodging robots.
The kind that came from hitting a wall over and over and then the wall would throw you to another wall. For the two days he had off from school. He trained with Shadow scale.
Even with Sauske's healing, when he flexed his right side, his whole body screamed at him him. He shifted slightly in his seat. Pain flared, just for a second. He didn't flinch.
Aizawa walked in, standing at the front of the room, no longer covered in bandages. "Morning."
"Ribbit. Mr. Aizawa you don't have bandages anymore." Tsu pointed out. "That's good news"
"Yeah the old lady went a little overboard with treatment" Aizawa responded scratching his eye. "Anyway we have a big class today on Hero informatics."
The class atmosphere gotten tense as some of his classmates were visibly worried. Then Aizawa broke the tension. "You'll need code names. Time to pick out your hero names."
A spark of chatter stirred through the class. Some nervous. Some excited.
Aizawa cut the chatter down with just a look as the class sat straight up. "This is related to the pro hero draft picks That I mentioned the last time we were in class together."
Itami exhaled softly through his nose, leaning back against the chair as Aizawa added. "Normally first years wouldn't have to worry about the draft till their second or third year. But your class is different. In fact—"
Itami was gotten lost in thought as the pain in his sides still ached.
Huh I wonder which hero agency I'll be in… Probably with people who love to break teenagers bones
Itami smiled to himself at his dry comment til he heard Jiro. "Todoroki got more than Itami?"
"Probably because Itami walked away in the last round" Sero added in.
Itami looked up at the screen seeing the number next to his name along with the graph. Only second to Todoroki with 3,808 offers.
Huh people really want me? I wonder who I would of picked if it wasn't for BlackScale?
Itami watched as Momo offered a soft smile to Todoroki. A polite, quiet "congratulations."
Todoroki nodded in response—subdued as always.
Then Momo turned and looked toward him.
Her expression was unreadable at first. Still. Composed.
"It's amazing," she said quietly, folding her arms in front of her desk. "You received 3,808 picks."
Itami blinked, then gave a faint shrug. "Guess setting a guy on fire looks good on a résumé."
Momo offered a polite smile—just as Midnight's voice rang out from the doorway.
"The name you pick now will be what you're called for life," she announced, striding into the classroom. "You better be careful or you'll end up stuck with something utterly indecent."
"Yeah, she's got a point," Aizawa added from the corner, already crawling into his sleeping bag. "Midnight will have final approval on your hero names. It's not my area."
He began passing out whiteboards and markers. "The name you give yourself matters. It shows the kind of hero you want to become."
With that, Aizawa settled against the wall as students leaned forward, murmuring to one another, the energy in the room quietly shifting from nerves to curiosity.
Itami's gaze drifted to the board, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
He barely heard Kaminari announce "Chargebolt" with a thumbs-up or Mineta awkwardly explain "Grape Juice."
His eyes half-lidded, he let the sounds of the class blur.
And then—
A memory surfaced.
A quiet evening. The stone path still warm under his bare feet. The scent of incense hanging in the air.
He was younger.
Sitting cross-legged before the old family shrine, tracing the crest carved into the stone with one curious finger.
His father knelt beside him, adjusting a worn frame on the altar.
"Why do we have this crest?" Itami asked.
His father smiled, calm and warm.
"Because it tells our story without words. It represents our family."
He tapped the carved emblem with one knuckle.
"The Wyvern family crest has been here for generations. We wear it proudly. We lead our people in the right path, even if others don't approve, we push through to make a brighter future."
The incense had burned low that evening. The mountains were quiet. That moment had buried itself somewhere deep inside him.
Now, he was back in the classroom, staring at the blank board, marker in hand.
I'm not as strong as you. I'm not the best suited leader. But I carry something with me. Even if no one else sees it. Even if I'm still trying to understand it… I'll push through.
He stepped to the front, slow but steady. The soreness still tingled in his side, but he ignored it.
He showed the class what he wrote down one word in clean, deliberate strokes.
ShadowCrest
Then turned and held up the board. No explanation. No smile. Just the name.
Midnight raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oooh… strong. Mysterious. A little dramatic, but it fits your vibe. Approved."
Kaminari blinked. "That sounds like a final boss in a JRPG."
Kirishima grinned. "It's got punch, though. Real pro hero energy."
Jirō leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, one brow slightly raised.
"ShadowCrest, huh? Sounds cool—but if you start doing brooding rooftop monologues, I'm walking out."
A few chuckles went around the room.
Itami said nothing. Just returned to his seat. But the corner of his mouth lifted—barely noticeable. Almost.
The classroom chatter faded behind closed doors.
Inside the faculty lounge, Aizawa sat at his desk, skimming through printed lists of agency's his students listed down, till he stopped at one.
Snipe leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, hat low over his eyes.
"Kid's only got one agency listed," he said, glancing over Aizawa's shoulder. "Wyrm-Crest. Didn't even look at the rest."
Aizawa didn't look up. "A family agency plus they were the first one to draft him. No surprise."
Snipe tilted his head. "One of the suits from the Hero Public Safety Commission's been making quiet visits. Keeps droppin' by, askin' questions about Itamis progress. Makes you wonder."
Aizawa finally glanced over at him. "You think they're pulling strings?"
Snipe gave a lazy shrug. "Wouldn't be the first time an old bloodline got special treatment."
He tapped the desk with two fingers.
"Also asked what our final exam schedule looks like. Like they're always planning something ahead."
Aizawa took a second longer to inspect Itamis paperwork.
The school day had ended, and the sun cast long shadows over the gates.
Itami walked out, backpack slung over one shoulder, moving slower than usual. Not from pain—but from thought.
A black SUV pulled up, the engine low and steady. Itami climbed in and shut the door, the quiet thud echoing louder than it should've.
Akuma was behind the wheel.
They pulled off from the UA campus. For a moment, it was just the road and the hum of tires. No music. No jokes. No easy grin. Akuma's hands were both on the wheel—tight, rigid. His shoulders held tension he didn't bother hiding.
"You okay?" Itami asked.
No answer. Not right away.
"…What happened?" he tried again.
Akuma's eyes stayed forward. His voice came out flat. "Tensei's down. In the hospital."
Itami blinked. "Wait—what? What happened?"
"A villian got him" Akuma said. "They call him, Stain The hero killer."
A pause.
"They got this stain guy right? Tensei is no slack of a hero if I recall right?" Itami asked.
Akuma's grip tightened. "No. Stain got away and almost killed him. I asked the Elders for clearance to hunt him down myself. They denied it."
Itami sat in the quiet. He didn't know what to say. After a second, he tried, "At least he's alive. Better breathing than not."
Akuma's hands relaxed a little. "Yeah. You're right."
Itami leaned back in the seat, the name still echoing in his head.
Stain…
Lida's face crossed his mind—calm, polite, totally unaware.
Does he even know yet?
The ride ended without another word.
Akuma pulled up beside the narrow mountain road, the Shadow Scale HQ entrance half-buried in stone and shadow. He didn't park. Just slowed down enough for Itami to hop out.
"You'll get your assignment inside," Akuma said, eyes still forward. "Keep sharp."
Itami nodded. "I will."
He stepped out, the SUV disappearing into the curve of the mountain road a second later.
The temperature dropped as he approached the entrance—cool air spilling from the reinforced steel door as it hissed open. The familiar weight of concrete, metal, and silence settled over him like a second skin.
No chatter. No jokes. No one waiting to greet him.
Just a long hallway lit by cold fluorescent lights.
He moved with practiced steps through the corridor, his boots echoing faintly until he reached the elevator.
Then, after a long descent in silence, the elevator hissed open. Cold air met him as he stepped out into the heart of Shadow Scale HQ.
The main room was already occupied.
Kael sat in one of the central chairs, arms crossed, eyes shut—but he wasn't asleep. He was listening. Waiting.
Riven stood at his bench, adjusting the scope on his rifle with meticulous care. His movements were slow, almost meditative.
Lira sat to the side, sharpening her knives. Each blade was laid out with precise spacing—symmetrical. Ritualistic.
Across from Kael, Sauske moved through his gear, checking each item with quiet focus. No banter. No wasted motion.
They were all in uniform—sleeves rolled, belts fastened, black coats sleek under the fluorescent lights. Battle-ready.
Then—
"You're late."
The voice cut through the room like steel.
Drex stood at the head of the room, arms behind his back, eyes like daggers.
Itami flinched—barely.
"Sorry. It won't happen again."
Drex didn't blink. "See that it doesn't."
A beat.
"Fall in."
Everyone stopped what they were doing and moved without a word, settling into their seats. No one dragged their heels. No one asked questions. This wasn't a classroom.
Drex tapped a key on the terminal. The wall lit up with a city map. The stage location, entrances, and exit routes glowed red.
"Listen up. The first play starts in two hours. We'll escort Aika Rose to and from the venue. We may encounter resistance—paparazzi, stalkers, or worse. Eyes are on her, and not all of them are friendly."
He turned slightly, eyes landing on Itami.
"You'll stay close. No exceptions. Your job is to be a wall and a shadow."
Itami nodded once. "Understood."
Drex continued, flipping to a new screen. "There's been chatter. Some believe her quirk is more than it seems. Don't ask her questions. Don't give her reason to doubt our control of the situation."
Riven clicked his pen without looking up. "If she's being hunted because of what she sees… we might encounter a force tonight."
"Correct," Drex said flatly. "People are spreading rumors saying she saw something—or someone—unwelcome. Doesn't matter if it's true. What matters is who believes it."
He gestured to the small case on the table next to him.
"Your masks are inside. Use the devices I handed out last time to scramble your face in footage. Remember, we're acting as a private security group contracted through a shell company. Not Wyrm-Crest. Not Shadow Scale. No emblems. No pride."
Kael cracked his neck. "So what's the plan if someone makes a move?"
Drex's eyes narrowed. "Neutralize. Quietly. No blood in public. We don't need a scandal attached to a concert."
He looked back to Itami. "You'll be stationed by her dressing room. You'll follow her to the stage, wait in the wings. Stick to your role and don't get distracted."
Itami gave a curt nod, already feeling the weight settle in again.
Sauske raised a hand slightly. "What if her performance throws off the schedule?"
"Then adapt," Drex said. "She'll perform five songs, no more. The final show is in Hosu. That's our deadline."
A silence settled. The briefing was over, but the tension stayed.
Drex looked around the room one last time.
"Gear up. Meet at the transport bay in five. Dismissed."
Drex walked off without another word, the elevator doors hissing open, swallowing him into the dim corridor beyond. They closed with a heavy clunk.
The room stayed silent for a few beats—until Lira stood and stretched, her blades already sheathed in the harness across her back.
She threw a glance over her shoulder at Itami.
"So," she said, voice light, sharp with amusement. "You and your class vp —what's her name again? Momo?"
She grinned as she leaned on the back of a nearby chair. "You two seemed real cozy during the the Masquerade, are you two dating now or what?"
Itami blinked. "What? No. That's not—"
His voice stalled halfway into the sentence, and that only made Lira smirk wider.
Sauske, tightening a strap on his gear, chimed in without looking up. "Back off, Lira. Let the kid breathe."
"Oh?" she said sweetly, turning her attention to him. "What—jealous?"
Sauske snorted. "Of who, Momo or you?"
Lira laughed—a short, amused sound. "Come on, Sauske. Don't be shy. I've seen how you stare when I spar."
He didn't dignify that with a response, just rolled his eyes and finished securing his boots. "I stare because I'm trying to calculate how much property damage all of you cause."
Kael let out a low chuckle from the corner. "Get a room you two."
Riven stood, collected his gear without a word, and gave Itami a quiet nod before heading out.
Lira followed soon after, tossing a final wink toward Itami. "See you at the convoy, Romeo. Don't fall for this one."
And just like that, they were gone—leaving Itami in the center of the quiet room, shoulders still stiff from the weight of what was coming.